


a thorny crown

by outlaw_baby



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, bone talk talk of bones, mercymorn goes through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlaw_baby/pseuds/outlaw_baby
Summary: She’s seen the arm on that little wench in white, an Augustinian in training, and she knows in two seconds she can make muscle for the bone that lays exposed in gold. But then she hates her, then she hates everyone, then would God see her skill and fear her? No. Never.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	a thorny crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FailedALIAS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailedALIAS/gifts), [lowbrw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowbrw/gifts), [runobody2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runobody2/gifts).



> shoutout to my friends and countryman [runobody2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runobody2/pseuds/runobody2)  
> [failedALIAS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailedALIAS/pseuds/FailedALIAS)  
> [lowbrw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowbrw/pseuds/lowbrw)
> 
> u have encouraged me greatly and ur ability to read and write is impeccable !!

When she was small and frail they put her up like a doll on a pedestal, but when she was large and angry they looked at her with a sheen in their eyes like acid pools and midnight burning. This was her first brush with anatomy, cool and simple lengthening the bone, the marrow. Nudging the fat to accommodate it. She was measured by her lengthening, by the gaps between then and now and at the time five inches seemed to be a great width. That was her as an aging thing, as a bred to die thing, as, well, she can hardly remember the thing that crawled, now, 10,000 years later, swimming through the river of death.

Later she would learn to stretch and crack bone with the energies of living and dying, but there is something pure about her own growth, that had ached her into a long thing. She aches now with her own longness, the overwrought stretch of eternity which she will strangle like a bad winged baby bird. He began eternity, He began a process of horrors to continue his own eternity, He made sin sacred, He was lonely and He made sin sacred. But no, she murdered for Him and eternity and He will not take away the long scar of 10,000 years for his own guilt. It is hers. And so is his anatomy.

She’s seen the arm on that little wench in white, an Augustinian in training, and she knows in two seconds she can make muscle for the bone that lays exposed in gold. But then she hates her, then she hates everyone, then would God see her skill and fear her? No. Never. 

No, God will never learn to fear her before it is too late to know he can. He could have. He should have. She thought this and thought this and fucked him that once, again, thinking this. How can he not tell she is Mercymorn Saint of Hating You, Saint of Killing You, Saint of Losing Everything Except the One Final Cry to Do Something Right For Once God, Mercymorn the Saint of Your Anatomy?

When she kills God she knows it is because he has never once calculated the weight of another’s hate, thinking it his own. When God is unkilled she thinks no more.


End file.
